Fight, for you may know peace
by Kessie
Summary: They knew. Knew he would try again. Knew he would never let them live their life. So they were prepared, weren t they? (Third part in the Changes Series- Sequel to "Fate")
1. Chapter 1

**Fight, for you may know peace**

Authors: Kessie  
Characters/Pairings: Sherlock, Sally, Mycroft. John, Anthea, Lestrade, Moran, OCs Sherlock/John, Sally/Mycroft, forced Sherlock/Sally  
Rating: NC17  
Status: still writing  
Warnings: Warnings for mentions of non con and violence. Mention of Child abuse. And language of course. It's Donovan. Lots of drama, but also some silliness…  
Disclaimer: Sherlock belongs to the BBC, ACD, Moffat and Gatiss. No copyright infringement intended.  
Summary: They knew. Knew he would try again. Knew he would never let them live their life. So they were prepared, weren´t they?

So this in the third Part in the "Changes" series. It will probably help if you read Part 1: Spero melior and Part 2: Fate, first.

**Chapter 1**

The nerve racking buzzing of a fake bumblebee was the first sound which Sally heard when she awoke from her slumber at 7 in the morning. Grumbling curses about Sherlock, who always loved to change her ring tone, claiming that the reason was, that he liked bees, she managed to retrieve her mobile from the night stand without waking Mycroft next to her.

"Donovan." She mumbled, looking at her bedmate for a second. Mycroft was still sleeping peacefully and Sally smiled. They only had a few hours together because Mycroft just arrived close to 4 at night due to some government crisis the tabloids did not yet know about. Thank god. That way he at least got a few hours sleep.

"Hey Sally, sorry to wake you so early but we´ve got a case. Murder in the Smithson retirement home. Say sorry to Mycroft as well, will you? I need you here."

Lestrade.

Sally sighed and told him that it was okay. Confirming that Sherlock and John would be there as well, she hung up and turned towards Mycroft again, who was now very much awake.

"Work?" he asked and she nodded smiling, before letting herself be drawn into a long kiss.

"Be careful, love." Mycroft told her and Sally smirked.

"Ah as if there is anything to worry about. Your men are still watching me like hawks."

That only resulted in Mycroft looking serious. "Sally, you know it's necessary..." He started but Sally waved him off.

"I know Myc. I know. But it's been three weeks since Moran played all mighty agent at the MI6 and there has been no sign of that bastard since then. Maybe he has simply pissed off somewhere, I don´t know. I´m just tired being watched all the time." She sighed. "I know it's because you care, but still." With that she wandered off into the shower, leaving Mycroft, who looked after her as she vanished into the bathroom.

"I know Sally. I know." he whispered, hoping that Moran had really pissed off for good, as Sally would say.

Sadly he was inclined to believe otherwise.

#

After getting ready and even eating a small breakfast which Mycroft had been adamant about, Sally gave her boyfriend a goodbye kiss and drove to the crime scene.

At first she pretended to not see the black car which was following her but then she gave up. The special training on observation and being followed and the like which Anthea had given her seemed work wonders. She knew the men weren´t obvious to anyone else but she could recognize them on the spot now. A look into the rear-view mirror confirmed that Peterson and Sanders were her "special bodyguards" today. She considered waving hello to them but then decided against it. Drawing attention to her like that was not a good thing, no matter whether Moran was still out there or not. And maybe Mycroft and Sherlock, who approved of his brothers actions to set men on her, John, Molly, Lestrade, hell even on Anderson, were right about being cautious.

Yet Sally didn´t want to worry about it all the time. So she thought about her first meeting with Mycroft that hadn´t had anything to do with his younger brother.

_A few months ago..._

_It had been a weird day. Not only had the suspected murder turned out to no murder at all, she had also had to deal with a witness to a crime who had thrown racial slurs at her as she tried to get his account of it all. _

_Luckily Sherlock had been there and deduced the shit out of him so that the witness had actually been crying for him stop at the end. Even though Sally could have held her own against the racist she was glad Sherlock had done this. It hadn´t been the first time either. _

_Which led Sally to remember the other time when Sherlock had defended her like that. Back then they had still hated each other and yet Sherlock couldn´t stand anyone being rascist against her. The next day Sally had pondered what to say, which had lead to Sherlock insulting her intelligence and her romantic choices again and that had been that. _

_Now she couldn´t help but think what could have been if they had really considered each other back then. Really talked, like they did now. Just once. _

_Maybe the whole thing with Moriarty on the rooftop would have worked out differently? She still cursed herself for her role in this. _

_Sherlock had grumbled at her to stop dwelling on things so much, but Sally was still pondering everything as she was on the way home. _

_It probably should not have come as a surprise when a dark limousine had turned up next to her that evening. And yet she was surprised every time it did, even though Mycroft had kidnapped her a few times already. She guessed he wanted to talk about something pertaining to Sherlock or Sergej again. She got into the extravagant vehicle although she really wished she could have gone home instead. _

_Inside, both, Anthea and Mycroft smiled at her. _

"_Rough day, Ms. Donovan?" Mycroft asked and Sally sighed. _

"_Did your brother send you?" she asked but continued at the tiny shake of Mycroft´s head. "Listen I´ve had a long day, I just want to go home. Just tell me what it is about Sherlock this time. Or is this about Sergej?" _

_With that she gladly took the cooled bottle of water, which Anthea offered. Okay, getting picked up by Mycroft Holmes after work could have its perks. Otherwise she would have gone thirsty until she was home._

_Mycroft had just slightly shaken his head once more. "No Ms. Donovan, I merely thought..." _

_He stopped, which left Sally a bit surprised. Was it bad news again? She hoped not. She was glad that the tumult which happened after Sherlock came back from the dead was slowly dwindling down and that the whole thing with Sergej slowly seemed to fade away as well. At least in her every day thoughts. The nightmares were another matter. _

_She saw that Anthea was looking at her boss with big eyes now, before giving a long sigh. "He means to ask if you would be up to try "Chinghams"? It´s a new restaurant in Camden and supposed to be very delicious." _

_Mycroft actually looked a tiny bit terrified now and then Sally got the picture. Wait a second, was he trying to ask her out? And more importantly, he seemed kind of scared to do it? _

_The car then came to a halt, which later Sally would think had been deliberately orchestrated by Anthea. But at this point she didn´t waste too many thoughts on it when the assistant got out of the car to go and buy some necessities as she called it. Because wasn´t it normal to buy necessities at 9 o´clock in the evening? _

_It didn´t matter, because it left her and Mycroft alone in the car. The looked at each other awkwardly for a few minutes, then Mycroft seemed to find his voice again._

"_I´m sorry, Ms. Donovan. My assistant loves to meddle sometimes. I.." he didn´t get any further as Sally had made a decision and held up her hand._

"_I don´t mind. Actually I like trying out new restaurants. And I´m starving!" _

_It didn´t seemed too strange that they didn´t pick up Anthea after that, as Sally thought about it later. But the evening and Mycroft turned out even more interesting than she had expected and the kidnappings to new or interesting restaurants became a regular occurrence._

It had taken about 5 dates until they had made it official and had called their meetings dating. Sherlock, John and of course Anthea had known already, and Lestrade who had been the next one to find out had wished them luck. Mycroft had asked if she wanted to be his girlfriend officially about 5 weeks ago and even if they didn´t have penetrative sex yet, they loved to kiss and just cuddle.

Before the Moran's deception at the MI6 with Moran she had stayed at Mycroft´s twice, but since then she had practically moved in with him. At first she had declined, afraid that their relationship went way too fast, but as she found Sherlock pleading at her, she had given in. Her new boyfriend being the safehouse wasn´t the same as moving in officially, was it? She at least tried not to think of it like that. She wanted to have a normal relationship. Everything should have its time and place in it.

Also it had shown that the consulting detective was really worried as Lestrade, Molly and even Anderson were watched by Mycroft´s men. She supposed he even had men watching their families, although she had never asked. So if Sherlock thought that it would help, she would try to be okay with it. Even if she was scared that her´s and Myc´s relationship might be moving too fast.

Damn Moran, she thought again. If she could get her hands on that bastard! She shook her head as these thoughts would get her nowhere anyway and parked her car she had arrived at the retirement home where the crime scene was supposed to be.

#

Sherlock Holmes was happy. He was on the way to a new case. He was more or less rested as the nightmares which had resurfaced since the Moran incident, had been kept at bay the previous night, due to John sleeping next to him he supposed, not that he would ever admit that. That, and so far Moran hadn´t shown his damn face again.

But most importantly there was a new case!

Finally.

Not that he liked people dying, mind you, but this time he was particularly glad to be distracted from his thoughts about Moran. That and the whole Christmas season and the following New Years Eve had never been his thing. It involved too much socializing. Too many people he didn´t want to see and too many parties he didn´t want to go to.

Even though this year it had been better. He had skipped most of the Christmas parties and celebrated with Sally, Mycroft, Mrs. Hudson and John.

On New Years Eve, John and him had gone out on what people would call a double date with Mycroft and Sally. They had attended Lestrade´s new years party and surprisingly it had been quite enjoyable, even though Anderson had shown his face there for about two hours, before going back to his wife again.

So yes, his mood could have been described as 'content' as he walked into the retirement home. Because for him, another body was a good thing.

His excitement diminished though, as he was brought to the body. God damn it, this case was so easy, he couldn´t understand why Lestrade couldn´t see it himself. Mr. Clarkson, 84, had been killed because he owed money to his room-mate Mr. Verde. There was even an IOU between the photographs of Mr. Clarkson´s family on the board next to the door. Really, any idiot should have seen that!

So yes. Boring. So much for another interesting case.

He told Lestrade as much and noticed Sally making her way towards them. Tired, but happy. Obviously she had been thrown out of Mycroft's bed when Lestrade called her here. Why in god's heaven had he done that? It wasn´t that he didn´t like to see her. That was long past. No, she and Mycroft could have used some more rest.

And even if it would have been a harder case, he could have solved this case by himself. Or together with John, as his blogger was standing next to him, looking decidedly tired himself.

"Hey Sherlock, John." Sally smiled at them.

"Case is already solved. And his majesty is grumpy." John told her and earned a glare from him.

Very funny John.

Not.

Sally laughed. "Okay then I´ll be off again, I´ll just tell Greg. Maybe I´ll manage to catch Mycroft before he has to go to work. I don´t have to be in the office until midday. By the way, tomorrow at 9 at Baker Street, was it?"

John next to him smiled and nodded and even though Sherlock was close to rolling his eyes he found himself nodding as well.

Bloody sentiment. Why did he agree to celebrate his birthday again? Especially so close after Christmas? He should have told them Christmas and New Years Eve had been enough socializing and maybe they would have forgotten eventually.

And yet a tiny voice inside him said that a piece of him was actually looking forward to the low key meal which they had planned. Just friends eating dinner they had said, and even though Sherlock only half heartedly believed them, he had agreed.

Sally walked over to Greg, telling them she had to ask John something about a health problem. Sherlock didn´t believe she wanted privacy because of this, but he left them to it. It would make them happy if they could pretend that they would surprise him with his birthday present.

And even if people were sometimes inclined to believe otherwise, Sherlock liked his friends to be happy.

So he said goodbye to Sally, nodded at Lestrade and told John he would be outside getting a taxi for them.

He didn´t get very far. Just as he had stepped into the hallway he was stopped by an old woman, who seemingly was one of the inhabitants of the home. She had grabbed his coat and wouldn´t let go.

"Sherlock." She smiled at him, a little toothless because she wasn´t wearing her fake teeth and Sherlock felt a little strange by her weird facial expression. "It's good you finally found each other. Make sure you take care of her, will you? Don´t run away again. Oh and I can see your knight is there as well..." She smiled even brighter, while Sherlock was both irritated and surprised. Did he know that woman? And who did she mean by 'her'? And his knight? How was...

Then it hit him. He should have seen the similarity instantly he supposed. He even had a photo of her at Baker Street, the little gift Sally had given him at Christmas.

Mrs. Tumbleton, Sally´s former neighbour was still smiling at him as if he was her long lost son. Sherlock took a deep breath and gently took the woman´s hand from his coat. This time she complied, yet was still smiling. It was kind of eerie.

"What do you mean I should take care of Sally? You mean Sally, right?" he asked, but now he was rewarded by a quizzical expression.

"Do I know you?" Mrs. Tumbleton asked then, taking a step back as he might be dangerous. "Where am I ? Is this the cafeteria?" She looked around, clearly lost now and Sherlock sighed.

Alzheimer´s. Of course. It shouldn´t have come as a surprise. Mrs. Tumbleton must be well over 90 now. And yet Sherlock would have liked an explanation about what she had said about Sally. Had she known about Sergej?

Had she even know what Sergej had done to him?

He was just about to ask another question as a nurse appeared, taking the hand of the old woman. "I´m sorry, I hope she hasn´t been bothering you. She wanders off sometimes."

Sherlock nodded. "I think I know her, Mrs. Tumbleton, right?"

The nurse nodded, surprised.

"She was friend of my grandmother. I didn't recognize her at first, but she recognized me."

Now the nurse looked even more surprised. "She did? Wow. Normally she doesn´t even remember her own name. Mostly she just asks for the cafeteria. The Alzheimer´s has progressed pretty far already. Often we have to remind her how to eat and drink."

She looked sad at that and shrugged, all too used to the sickness, Sherlock supposed. Mrs. Tumbleton took that moment and made herself known again. "Is this the cafeteria?" she asked and while the nurse shook her head, Sherlock decided he wouldn´t get anything out of the old woman.

Uncharacteristically kind, he patted her hand for a few seconds. "Goodbye Mrs. Tumbleton." he said and nodded at the nurse, before leaving the retirement home, deep in thought.

He had just stepped outside when the memory of him with his grandmother hit him. He had deleted it or so he thought, because it seemed to come back to him now. Seeing Mrs. Eugenia Tumbleton must have been the trigger.

_It had been a rainy day. _

_Sherlock was bored. Why did he have to go with grandma to visit Mrs. Tumbleton anyway? He´d rather have continued his experiments with the bees he caught in the garden yesterday. They were such a fascinating species. Too bad his mother hadn´t allowed him a stock in their garden. Well he would sure find a way even if that meant he could keep only a few._

_Bored, he wandered around Mrs. Tumbleton´s apartment and went to the window and looked out. There, on the stairs of the entrance, was a little, dark skinned girl about his age. Seemingly lost in her own world she seemed to enjoy jumping around the rain. _

"_That´s Sally." _

_Sherlock couldn´t help but flinch. He hadn´t even heard Mrs. Tumbleton behind him. _

"_You should watch her, you know? She´s connected to you." _

_That caused him to look at the woman. What? Connected? The woman laughed._

"_Don´t look so scared. She is a real nice girl, you know. Can be a bit of a handful but that´s mostly because she is scared or nervous. Want to go meet her?" _

_Sherlock hesitated for a few seconds. Meeting new kids was not always easy. Especially if he was smarter than they were, which happened most of the time. But before he could do anything, his grandmother was suddenly behind them, back from the bathroom he supposed._

"_Eugenia, what are you doing with the boy?" She asked, clearly not amused, which caused Sherlock to turn around again and stop looking at Sally. _

"_What I have to. You know they are connected. I can see it!"_

"_Don´t." His grandmother was angry now, _

"_But I can see it clearly. There are connected through two lines. And you know what that means." _

_Beth Holmes seemed to stop for a second, before she grabbed Sherlock´s hand and went for her purse on the couch. "I don´t want to hear it." _

"_Beth please. I don´t make the rules. But you know its going to happen. You might as well introduce them already." _

"_No. I don´t believe in superstitious dreams." She took her purse and grabbed Sherlock´s coat. "And you shouldn't either, Eugenia. We can show ourselves out." _

"_Beth you are running away and you know it. What´s so bad about the two getting to know each other?"_

_His grandmother stopped again and turned to look at her friend. "Because if you see connections in people it always means that something bad is going to happen. I´m just protecting Sherlock and the little girl." _

"_You know you can´t-"_

"_Yes I can and I will. Have a nice day." With that his grandmother had left the apartment with him. _

_Walking down the stairs by Sally, she had looked surprised at the sudden tumult from the apartment not too far away. _

_Then she had smiled at him, before jumping into the puddles again, seemingly lost in her own world._

Sherlock was a little baffled at the memory. Now that he thought about it, it had been the last visit with Mrs. Tumbleton before the whole thing with Sergej had happened. And before his grandmother had died.

So Mrs. Tumbleton had known? Had she been involved? No he would have seen that at Beth´s funeral, the last time he had seen her, he told himself. Then again his mother always thought the woman to be crazy anyway. "She believes in the supernatural, like horoscopes and such." She had said and he heard his aunts saying something about visions come to think of it.

So Eugenia Tumbleton had known about the bad things which happened to him and Sally through a vision? That alone seemed impossible, but due to the now progressed Alzheimer´s he guessed he´d never know.

Seemingly lost in thought he waved at the taxi he had spotted to come closer.

#

Entering 221b John Watson wasn´t sure if was angry or worried. Maybe it was a bit of both. Despite what Sherlock had told him he apparently hadn´t gotten a taxi for them. John had searched the whole first floor of the hospital, the car park and the park for his boyfriend but hadn´t found him. After another hour of running around he had given up and returned to Baker Street by himself.

If Sherlock was at Baker Street, he would receive the talk of his life. Now John understood that Sherlock didn´t really like that they were planning his birthday that much, but that didn´t warrant running away. Sherlock knew John hated that and since he had jumped from Bart's it made John extremely worried if he didn´t know where Sherlock was.

Sherlock had said he understood and vowed to always tell him where he was going. So far it had worked but now John wasn´t so sure any more.

Well, wherever the consulting detective had run off to, it sure as hell wasn´t this flat. With a little sigh John settled down in his chair, thinking. Where the hell could he have gone? He had no reason to be worried, Sherlock was a grown man. Yet with Moran out there, one never knew.

Deciding it was the best to wait, he began making himself some of the sudden his phone started to ring.

It was Mycroft.

"John, we have reason to believe that Sherlock might have been kidnapped."

"What? Why? I mean, what happened?" A little panic rose within himself. It couldn't be Moran, could it?

"Details are unclear but he activated his tracker not too far from the retirement home where you guys were working."

"What? He has a tracker?"

Mycroft seemed a little bit annoyed at his outburst. "Yes, he has. A precaution we made after the whole business with Moriarty. It was one way to make sure we could know where everyone was. Be ready in a few minutes, we are going to pick you up."

"I´m already ready. Just came home ten minutes ago. Wait a minute. Everyone?"

Nothing.

"Mycroft, do you mean every one of us has trackers? What the hell?"

The sound of the door and the creak of the stairs announced someone entering. John didn´t need to turn around to know it was Mycroft, phone still in hand.

"I assure you, John, it was done in your best interests. It only tracks you when it's activated anyway. We didn´t want you to have the impression we were keeping track of you all the time. Also, it's safer in case someone else gets wind of the tracker as well."

Since he didn´t have the energy to argue John just sighed. "When?"

"The flu-shot at the Yard yesterday, where Molly assisted."

A sigh. "Yeah come to think of it the timing was a bit off. So Molly knew?" John laughed slightly.

Mycroft nodded at that. "Yes she did. And she agreed and had one herself. Sherlock was supposed to tell you all anyway, as I was having a meeting with the prime minister."

Come to think of it Mycroft didn´t look to happy about it either. So John let it go.

At least for now.

"So what do we know?" he asked, changing back to the more important things at that moment.

"Sherlock activated his tracker about an hour ago close to Kings Cross. I immediately sent men to follow him and set to go there myself, but the tracker must have malfunctioned. We lost the signal after 10 minutes."

John closed his eyes at that, cursing inwardly. "That means he could be everywhere. Or maybe he set off it accidentally and switched it off again?"

A shake of Mycroft´s head. "No, it's foolproof. You can´t set it off accidentally. We made sure of that."

Another nod from John, who picked up his phone and keys, ready to go.

"There´s more John."

That made him stop.

Mycroft seemed off somehow, John thought then. Really shaken. So it couldn´t be good news.

"I can´t seem to reach Sally either."

God fucking damn it. "So it´s Moran."

Mycroft didn´t even nod at that, they just left 221b together.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

When Sherlock woke, it took him a few moments until he realized what had happened. He only remembered walking out of the retirement home, then suddenly pain and -

A needle.

He had been injected with something and had been held down.

And then when he was weak enough, he had been thrown into the back of a van. He had used his last energy to activate the tracker located in his left arm. Said tracker had been a surprisingly good idea from Mycroft for once. He had put his arms around himself, looking as if he wanted to protect himself and had taken the small chip between the thumb and the ring finger of his right hand. It was located directly under the skin, so it wasn´t hard to find, but it would only transmit anything with activation. Pressing it three times had activated it, he was sure.

But now due to the pain in his left upper arm he was sure they had found it. Drowsily he opened his eyes and looked left. His arm was bloody, so the kidnappers had taken it out.

Damn it.

But maybe it had been in long enough?

Probably not because neither Mycroft nor his men were anywhere in sight.

"Ah Sherlock. Wakey wakey!" Sherlock actually fought with himself not to puke at the sound of the voice, which was probably also due to the medication that he had been given.

Moran.

Of course.

"What do you want?" he drawled out, voice still unsteady and tried to sit up which only worked at the second attempt. Damn barbiturates.

"Oh, what do I want? Hmm." Sebastian Moran was pacing around the room, an abandoned factory from the looks of it, like a boy who couldn´t wait to play with his toy. "What do I want? Oh you´ll see soon enough."

The former soldier seemed to be incredibly impatient, but it took a while until Sherlock could actually get on his feet. Sherlock had used the minutes to look around a bit. From the looks of it they were in an old abandoned factory, close to the Thames. Sherlock felt himself reminded of the time he was undercover when the whole world thought he was dead after the fall from Barts and suddenly Sally had been placed in front of him. It had been inconvenient, because he had been afraid that she would reveal him, but a small part of him had been glad to see her even then. She had been the only connection to his old life, unless you counted Mycroft. Which he hadn´t.

But now the situation was even more dire. Back then he had been the kidnapper not the prisoner. And he hadn´t been drugged, damn it, which proved to be far the bigger problem right now.

Still dizzy, he was placed on his feet and led through a dark hallway into another room. His hands were bound by cuffs in front of him and while Moran led him by his arms, two men followed them, making sure he would actually walk.

While it was actually hard enough to stay on his feet at this time, Sherlock tried to tell himself that he could get out of this. No matter what tortures Moran had planned for him, he would withstand them and would find a way out.

He just had to. Especially now that he had finally found John and was starting to build an actual relationship with him.

His hopes were crushed though, as he entered the room and saw what, or better who, was waiting for him there.

It was Sally.

His friend was lying on her back, bound onto a table, completely naked and shivering like a leaf. She seemed dizzy as well and due to the eight iron-cuffs which bound her legs and arms twice each in strategic places, she couldn´t even move a centimetre.

Sherlock didn´t even need to ask what Moran had planned for him.

Or for them.

The bastard knew. Probably had even read the damn files describing his and Sally´s abuse by the same russian agent- two children who couldn´t be more different and yet suffered a similar fate just because they ran into that monster Sergej.

Knew about his father´s death in front of his eyes, hell maybe he even knew what they had done last year and that they had Sergej in custody now.

Moran probably had laughed reading it, all amused, probably gloating at such news, and Sherlock felt sick.

It was then when his legs gave in and he found himself down on the floor, with an irate Moran in front of him.

"Oh we are getting weak already?" he spat, hauling Sherlock up quickly again, which nearly caused the consulting detective to fall over once more. "That´s not an option, Holmes."

Sherlock just huffed. You shouldn't have drugged me then, he thought, but didn´t say anything. Instead his gaze found Sally once more. Why did she have to go and try to save him a few weeks ago? Stubborn, dumb women. She would have been safe, damn it.

Safe.

Moran seemed to have followed his gaze and started to laugh. "You are going to fuck her, you know? Show her what it means to be associated with you. "

Even though Sherlock had already guessed what was coming he found himself feeling violently sick once more. Shaking his head slightly he was somehow proud to bring out a non shaky "No.", even though it wasn´t that loud.

"No?" Moran laughed harder. "Oh come on that shouldn´t be news to you. Everybody gets used by you, one way or another, don´t they? Normally people notice rather quickly and make sure they get far away from you as soon as possible. But some..." He pushed Sherlock closer to Sally so that there were only a few meters between them now. "...well, some never learn, do they?"

With that Sebastian smiled at Sally, who was watching them now, fear evident in her eyes, yet still strong. She had even forced herself to stop shaking, which made Sherlock a little proud somehow. Donovan had always been strong, even back when they had disliked each other. She also had been one of the few to question him. It had made him respect her somewhat even then, although he wouldn´t have admitted it.

"So?" Moran teased him, but not loud enough for Sally to hear. "Give her a nice big, hard fuck and we can get her out of here. What do you think?"

Again a shake of his head. Then: "I´m not going to hurt her." Nice and clear. Loud enough for Sally to hear as well, even though he wasn´t sure how much she noticed due to the drugs.

Moran though didn´t seem to be amused by this. "Okay. Then we will make sure you will do so anyway." He nodded at the two men behind them which now had been joined by two more, which were guarding the door. They took a hold of Sherlock immediately. After that Moran produced a big knife from a bag in a corner next to the door and walked up to Sally. At that point Sherlock realised that she was at least aware enough about what was happening that she tried to get away from Moran, but utterly failed due to the metal bindings.

Sherlock himself was trying to kick the two men off him, with out much success. It made him rather dizzy, which he couldn´t care less about, as he saw how Moran put the knife down at Sally´s right arm and started to cut from wrist towards the elbow. It was a long, deep cut and Sally made an inhuman noise as blood welled up immediately.

Moran though seemed to enjoy himself. While Sherlock was trying to use the last reserves to get the men off him, he looked at Sally who was silently crying now, trying to breathe hard through the pain. Then his hand went towards the wounded arm and all Sherlock could yell was "Leave her alone you bastard." before Moran placed his fingers into the wound.

Sally let out another cry as he took hold of one of her tendons, which could be seen in the deep, still heavily bleeding wound. "So Sherlock? Still uninterested?" he teased and then took the knife and cut the tendon. Sally was screaming loudly now and Sherlock let out an undignified noise as well, barely able to choke back his tears and the bile in his throat.

Taking a deep breath he forced himself to calm down. This was helping neither him nor Sally. He needed to focus. He was still free on his feet, so he had more of a chance of getting them out of there than Sally, he supposed.

He needed to make use of this. But how?

Moran was watching him once more. "You know, I won´t kill her. I promise. But that doesn´t mean I won't harm her. I´m just showing her what it means to be your friend." He told him and turned to Sally, slowly stroking through her hair with his bloody hands which led Sally to try to turn her head away. She didn´t have much success.

"Oh darling." He drawled. "You know, I´m just trying to teach you all a lesson. Sherlock Holmes will use you, you know? He´d rather let me harm you, than get harmed himself. You were right back then. He just doesn´t care about others."

"Fuck you." Sally spat and Moran giggled at that.

"Ah she is still a feisty one. I like her. But she will pay the price you know? Not killing doesn´t mean I won't take her apart, piece by piece. What do you think, she doesn´t need both eyes, does she?" with that the knife went close to Sally´s face and dangerously close to Sally´s left eye and that was enough for Sherlock.

"Okay, okay. I´ll do whatever you want me to. Just stop this." he pleaded.

Moran smiled now. "Will you?"

Sherlock forced himself to nod. "Yes. Just don´t hurt her anymore."

Trying to get his breathing and the rest of his body under control, Sherlock watched Moran walk up to him until he was inches away from his face. "Okay, then I´ll sit back and enjoy the show, shall I?"

The men let go of him, and Sherlock stood there for second, not sure what to do. Knowing what was expected of him was one thing, but the how was another thing. Women didn´t do a thing for him, they never had, but even if they did, he was sure he couldn´t have gotten an erection at this point.

Maybe if he tried to access his mind palace and think of John? He shuddered as he didn´t like to use him like this, but there was no other choice was there?

He opened his pants and took his hands to himself, which wasn´t that comfortable with cuffs. Just put yourself into a trance, he told himself. You can do this.

But it wasn´t working.

Moran was getting rather annoyed by this as well and finally held up his hands. "Okay, okay. God you are even more pathetic than I thought you would be. Luckily, I thought about that."

With one flick of Moran´s hand he was grabbed again, his pants were yanked down and Moran produced a small vial. Sherlock told himself that it was just transport, that he didn´t feel a thing, but being humiliated like this was hell. He tried to not feel the injection, which of course didn´t work, and even attempted to will away the painful erection which appeared about 3 minutes later.

"It´s just transport. Not really important." echoed through his head over and over again as he shakily stepped up to Sally.

Just as he entered her as carefully as he could - he would try and hurt her as little as possible- he saw it. Sally´s left arm was unharmed! That could only mean that they hadn´t found the tracker yet. Why the hell hadn´t he seen this earlier? He put it down to the drugs and the shock of the environment.

A strange feeling of joy and weirdness entered his guts and he made a weird noise that caused Sally to open her eyes, which she had closed as Moran had injected him. She of course had no idea what was going on, as she didn´t even know about the tracker.

Bending over her, he placed his still cuffed hands at the right point at her left arm and whispered to her "I´m sorry, Sal." before giving her a kiss on her forehead. He tried to maintain the movement of his groin while he searched for the tracker and as he finally found it, he took it between middle finger and thumb and pressed three times.

There was a slight buzz between his fingers, so he was sure that it had worked. Sherlock would have loved to let out a scream of joy, but remained quiet instead, still slowly doing what Moran had told him to do, feeling nothing while doing so. He searched for Sally´s eyes and tried to silently relay to her that everything was going to be all right somehow, as he couldn´t say it out loud.

And yet he was praying inside, screaming at the world: Damn it Mycroft, come on. Hurry.

#

It had taken a while until Sally had grasped where she was. Cursing the drugs, she took in her surroundings and came back with the fact that she was in some kind of factory. Bound naked to a table none the less.

It wasn´t hard to figure out who had brought her here.

"Fuck you, Moran!" She had thought, just as she heard someone walking up to her. Blinking through the dizziness she had seen the man she had feared to be the culprit, accompanied by two bullies.

And Sherlock.

She fought the urge to puke as she saw her friend with this monster and dreaded what was coming since she knew it couldn´t be good. At least he seemed mostly unhurt, except for a small wound on his arm which had stopped bleeding already. Moran seemed to be giving Sherlock orders, which she couldn´t hear as she was still too far away. Sherlock didn´t seem to like what he was saying one bit and a second later he was grabbed by the two bullies, while Moran picked up a knife and walked up to her.

Cold, deadly fear walked its way up through her gut, for herself and for Sherlock.

He would make him watch.

Moran would kill her right in front of Sherlock and he would make him watch.

She tried to get away but the bonds were too strong, so that she couldn´t do anything but watch as Moran cut her arm. It hurt like a bitch and she tried to breathe through the pain, just as a monk from this weird case a few weeks ago had told her to, in case she got her monthly cramps again. It didn´t really help. The pain made the dizziness worse though and she saw more than heard Moran talking to Sherlock.

And then there was pain once more as Moran cut her arm again. Parts of the conversation she could make out and a moment later she understood: He wanted Sherlock to rape her. She screamed at this and yet she was somehow relieved when Moran didn´t take her eye out and Sherlock agreed instead.

It was weird, but she wasn´t afraid of Sherlock. Had someone told her this over a year ago, she would have laughed and said that he was a psychopath and not to be trusted, but now? To be honest she didn´t feel a thing at the moment. Pain, yes, but it was thrumming in the background, while her feeling, hell nearly all of her soul, seemed to be gone somewhere.

Maybe this was what Sherlock meant when he said it was just transport? Or maybe she was going into shock, but too be honest she didn´t really care.

It meant she would survive this.

So she tried to tell Sherlock through looks that she would be okay and saw him trying to do what Moran was requesting from him. He failed though and as the bastard injected him she was screaming obscenities as screaming was all that she could do to fight back.

Closing her eyes, she felt Sherlock come up to her. He was gentle and it made her cry more as she remembered all the damn fights they had in the past. Right, that´s the perfect time to think about such things, she scolded herself, and opened her eyes as Sherlock made a rather strange noise. He seemed totally out of it and she prayed that his sanity was stored safely somewhere within his mind palace. God please let us survive this, she pleaded and felt him kiss her head. Then he suddenly was at her healthy arm, searching, then applying pressure? What the hell?

It lasted for a few seconds, then his hand left her arm again.

He had done something hadn´t he? But what? She was still too dizzy and feeling too dazed to understand what he had done. Whatever it was, she hoped that it would help. Help him, help her, it didn´t matter.

They would get through this. They had to

Sherlock was still steadily moving inside her. The men were cheering now, laughing, but Sally tried to tune them out. She saw that Moran was standing next to them once more, grinning like a kid in a toy shop. "Oh, come for me, Sherlock!" he giggled and Sally felt bile rise in her throat as she thought that this monster was getting off on it.

It was only about a minute later when Sherlock actually came, without any sound at all. Under the cheering of the men he stepped back and slipped out of her. He bent down and took his pants to draw them up as fast as possible. But as she had resorted to only watch him now, she saw that he was still half hard. She shuddered because he looked like he was in pain as well. She didn´t wanted to know what Moran had injected into him. Whatever it was it couldn´t have been healthy.

Looking at her arm she saw that she was still bleeding steadily. It still hurt like a bitch but she was more or less getting used to the waves of pain wrecking through her body. Sherlock seemed to have followed her gaze as well, as he demanded. "You said you wouldn´t kill her. So get her medical attention or she might bleed to death." He looked rather lost at the moment, tremors wrecking through his legs which made Sally worry about him.

Moran smiled at that and Sally was sure that he wouldn´t give a damn. "I will see to that. But first..."

It was then that suddenly the room exploded into a warzone. The door to the hallway was kicked in, followed by a sniper who immediately shot the bully who was next to Moran between the eyes. Sherlock jumped into action and onto Moran, tackling him down onto the floor. She saw him trying to reach for the knife which Moran had stuck into his belt and wished she could help him. The other remaining men ran for cover to the far end of the room towards some old forgotten crates. They seemed to be interested in their own asses mostly, not caring about Moran, and Sally thanked the heavens for that.

While the sniper, protected in full safety-gear, came to stand in front of her and Sherlock to shield them from Moran's men, Sherlock had somehow wrestled the knife of Moran. He was sitting on the ex-soldier now, pressing him effectively into the floor and Sally was glad he had won. Taking a deep breath she wanted to look for Mycroft, John and the others who she hoped would soon come through the door, but registered Sherlock raising his hands and looked back to him instead.

Moran still wasn´t giving up and tried to wiggle from under him but Sherlock didn´t seem to be concerned by this. Instead he raised his hands, with his fingers still grasping the knife,just as Moran got one arm free. And before Moran could get any more leverage Sherlock stabbed him in the neck, close to his throat.

Moran let out a gurgling noise as Sherlock took the knife to him.

One. Two. Three times, all in quick succession.

Then Moran was silent.

Sherlock appeared to be in trance for a few moments, knife still raised, just staring at the body.

While the sniper and another colleague were closing in on the other men now, who seemed to have at least one gun as well, Sherlock came to life again. The knife was discarded onto the floor as he continued to stare at his bloody hands in shock, before looking at her for a second.

Sally cursed that she was still bound, but was relieved as suddenly Mycroft and John rushed into the room. While Mycroft cut his brother´s cuffs with a bolt cutter, John immediately tended to her arm and a second later Mycroft was with her, getting her free.

All the while Mycroft´s men had formed a safe wall with bullet proof shields and were fighting the remaining three men. She was sure she had seen Lestrade, Anthea and maybe even Anderson, but she might have been imagining it. Yet, that was the moment when Sally finally allowed herself to breath again.

It was weird, the whole damn thing had probably taken barely two minutes, but to Sally it had seemed like everything was in slow motion. Now the time seemed to rush in again, as well as the pain, as John was prodding at her wound.

"I´m sorry, Sally. It might hurt a bit, but I can´t give you anything until I know what's in your blood, as you are still clearly affected by it." His gaze went over to Sherlock as he took a bandage, which Mycroft had gotten out of the medical emergency bag.

"Sherlock?" John called. "Sherlock, we are getting Sally out of here. Come with us, yeah?" But the consulting detective didn´t seem to hear him. So Mycroft tried to call him instead, all the while he was trying to help John with a decent bandage for her arm. Said doctor suddenly cursed.

"Damn it, it's bleeding more heavily again. Mycroft, I need you to press down. I´m sorry Sally, it's going to hurt, but we have to get you out of the line of fire first, okay?"

A nod. Then Mycroft pressed down onto the wound, which hurt so bad that it made her sees stars and she screamed.

Next to them a man with a stretcher appeared and she was placed onto it while John was still working on her, assisted by Mycroft.

"Sherlock get out of here. Come on. "John called again and then she was rushed towards the door.

"Sherlock." She tried as well, but as her voice was strained and hoarse due to all the crying, she was sure that he hadn´t even heard her as she was wheeled out.

The shots fired between Mycroft´s MI6 men and Moran´s lackeys became distant sound as she was wheeled into the cold night air.

It was okay, she told herself.

We are going to be okay.

#################

Ah well. Sherlock and Sally don´t seem to like me at the moment- but I love putting my characters through some misery I´m afraid. So what do you guys think?


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

David Anderson had seen lots of things in his life. Most of the horrific ones had been due to his job. Gruesome murders, body parts, dead animals, abused kids- there was hardly anything which left him shaken anymore, he was somehow proud to say.

And yet, there were always situations which you weren´t prepared for. Or you probably couldn´t be.

Just like now.

After Moran impersonated the MI6 agent at the headquarters of MI6, he had agreed to stay at Mycroft Holmes` house for the first two nights, even though he didn´t think he was in any danger. Even after these nights when they were allowed to go home, he had snorted as Mycroft made sure his men were watching him and Lestrade, Molly and Sally at work and simply everywhere.

And yet Anderson had let it happen.

But not because he had been worried about himself, no. Moran wasn´t after him. He was too insignificant, but even he could tell that Moran had been angered by Sally´s actions at the headquarters. So that made her a target, and since Sherlock was sure Lestrade had been a target all along, David thought he´d agree to everything.

Better safe than sorry.

But it turned out that it hadn´t been enough.

He had been with Lestrade when they heard, that Sherlock and Sally were missing. Deep inside he pleaded to the heavens that they would turn up unharmed, but he knew that it had to be Moran again.

It had only taken minutes until John and Sherlock´s brother had turned up at the Yard to get Lestrade and Anderson. They weren´t taking any chances John had said, and Anderson wanted to comply.

Go to the safe house.

Again.

But then Lestrade´s mobile had rung, with Moran telling him to check his emails.

"Just so you all see how important you are to the freak." The man said as Lestrade switched his phone to speaker, Mycroft's men already busy trying to trace the bastard. "He always puts himself first and he will inflict pain on you if it's convenient for him. Don´t say I didn´t warn you all to stay away from him. He will destroy all of you."

Then the line went dead.

The email turned out to be a link to a live camera feed of some kind. It had taken a few seconds to realize the poor woman on the table was Sally.

Seeing Sherlock stepping up to her, as she was naked and tied to a table, Anderson had doubted him for second. Maybe this Moran guy was right. Maybe Sherlock really didn´t care?

Or did he?

A few moments later David had his answer and Moran began torturing Sally. He could nearly feel Sherlock´s fear and disgust as it was written all over his face, because he never had seen an emotion on the consulting detective´s face so clearly as it had been then.

As the forensic technician tried to not loose his breakfast, Lestrade next him went frantic while Mycroft barked orders at his men and his assistant. Dr. Watson slumped down onto a chair and went completely grey in his face, so that Anderson feared that John might even collapse completely next to him. Yet if one looked more closely, one saw that the former soldier had a slight tremor and David recognized he was actually shaking from anger.

"He knows." The doctor had murmured. "He knows their story."

Anderson had no idea what he was talking about but he tried to stay close to John in case he would collapse. Yet he still watched the monitor as well, deep worry for Sally and yes, even Sherlock, etched in his mind. He was so scared at that moment that he didn´t even wonder why he suddenly cared about the detective, but later decided it was probably because he´d never wish anything like that on anyone.

Shaking his head, John had been close to crying, now more devastated than Anderson had ever seen him. "Damn it Mycroft, how does he know?" he asked. "I thought you had destroyed all the evidence. Sherlock asked you to. Fuck!"

With that he got up and kicked a trash bin through the room.

Mycroft hadn´t answered John, but Anderson wasn´t dumb. Even though Sherlock always said he was.

He had suspected for a while that there had been more to Sally and Sherlock, than their encounter in the warehouse when Sally had been caught by this human trafficker ring. Sherlock and Sally obviously had learned that they had a history together, and as he had already suspected abuse in Sally´s past once, it now made sense.

He wasn´t sure if he was 100% right, but he wouldn´t ask.

He felt sick to his stomach even thinking about it. The situation was bad enough already, but if both, Sherlock and Sally had been abused in the past...

He didn´t want to think about it.

Sally was- they were – his colleagues or even friends somehow and he didn´t want to imagine them in a worse situation than they were already in.

They had been lucky Sherlock had been able to activate the tracker in Sally´s arm and they all had immediately jumped into the vans Mycroft did have waiting for them. And even more fortunate that it hadn´t been far. It had hardly taken 10 minutes by car until they had reached the abandoned warehouse. Why was it that baddies always used abandoned warehouses anyway, he asked himself and shook his head at that.

Shaking off his thoughts, he saw that John was working on Sally´s injuries and trying to get her to an ambulance, together with Mycroft who helped the Dr. to calm her down.

Lestrade and Anthea were helping Mycroft´s men to contain the rest of the bastards and he felt a bit weird and helpless, simply standing in this room, not sure what to do. He wasn´t good with guns though so jumping into the fight wasn´t an option.

Then he saw Sherlock.

Mycroft had called after his brother to come with them two times, while he held down the bandage on Sally as John was fastening it, but the consulting detective didn´t seem to hear him.

All the noise, the men from Moran still putting up a fight, Sally screaming, everything seemed to pass over Sherlock´s head as he just stood there, staring at his bloody hands, saying nothing.

Not far from him Anderson could see the body of Moran. He thought of Sally´s words to John, a long, long time ago. "Someday Sherlock Holmes will be the one who put it there." and shuddered.

Yes, she had been right.

Somewhat. But in this case Anderson was glad she was because otherwise he would have killed the damn bastard himself if he could.

As Mycroft and John carried Sally out of the room to get medical attention, she was still bleeding heavily despite the good Doctor's ministrations, Anderson stepped up to Sherlock. Remembering that Sally told him once that Sherlock hated to be touched by people he didn´t like or know, he tried talking to him first.

"Sherlock?"

Nothing.

"Hey Sherlock, Sally is on the way to hospital, come on, let´s follow her, okay? People need to look at you as well."

Nothing. The normally out spoken and often downright rude detective seemed catatonic now. Totally lost, staring at his hands which were still red from Sally´s and Moran´s blood.

Deciding that he sure as hell couldn´t stay here especially since Moran´s men still had guns, Anderson approached the man slowly now and gently put a hand on his shoulder. David had been prepared that it may not achieve anything or that maybe Sherlock would hit him, because he didn´t want to be touched by an "idiot" but to his surprise the only reaction Sherlock showed was turning towards him.

Anderson tried to smile and took a deep breath. This could be a good sign. Maybe Sherlock was slowly coming out of his shock.

"Sally is in hospital, let's go there as well." He said but the consulting detective didn´t say anything and continued to stare at his hands again.

David sighed, unsure what to do now, but then he got an idea. As gently as he could he took Sherlock´s right arm and started to drag him towards the door. "Come on, lets get you cleaned up first, there is a bathroom near the hall." he told the man and to his luck Sherlock started moving.

A few moments later they were in the dirty, run down bathroom of the factory. It didn´t look too inviting but Anderson was actually glad when it turned out that the tap at the sink was still in running order.

So he turned on the water and gently started to clean Sherlock´s hands. Since there was no soap in the bathroom, the water had to be enough for now, but it was better than nothing. Sherlock didn´t make a single sound the whole time but it was clear he was grateful to get the blood off his hands. Anderson didn´t say much either, and it was John Watson who broke this strange silence when he found them about two minutes later.

"Sherlock? Let me check you over." The Dr. said and so Anderson helped him to lead Sherlock outside where two ambulances were already waiting. While John put Sherlock in one of them, Anderson went over to the other, in which Sally seemed to be sleeping now, while Mycroft Holmes sat next to her, holding her unharmed hand.

"She´ll be all right. The blood loss wasn´t life threatening and I already have specialists working on the hand injuries." The older Holmes declared and Anderson thanked the heavens for that, even though he knew the physical injuries were the smaller part in this. He nodded at the older man, turning around to look at Sherlock and John once more.

"Mr. Anderson, I want to thank you for..."

Anderson held up his hand "Not for that." He shook his head. "Not for that. "

#

When Sally Donovan woke up again, it took her a few moments until she realized where she was. Her head was swimming and yet she didn´t feel any pain. Taking in the surroundings she realized that she was in a hospital, probably heavily drugged, as the infusion attached to her healthy hand seemed to indicate, while the other was bandaged thoroughly.

As she turned around she saw that Anthea was sitting next to her. "Myc says hello." the assistant smiled. "He would have been here, but the Prime Minister wouldn´t wait for a third time. But he´ll be back later." Handing her a glass of water from the table next to her, Anthea seemed to be relieved to see her. "You gave us quite a scare you know? You were unconscious for longer than the docs anticipated due to you reacting to one of the narcotics."

Sally just nodded, not sure what to answer. She still had to order all of the thoughts in her head. Last she remembered there had been Moran and Sherlock and then. Oh god. She shuddered at the memory.

"Sherlock?" She asked and Anthea smiled again as the door to Sally´s room opened to admit John Watson.

"Sherlock is okay. He is probably right on John´s heel is he?" She said directed at John and the Doctor laughed.

"Well he has been the whole day. He just told me he was going to get something, so I think he´ll be here soon. We came as soon as Anthea said there were signs that you were waking up. How do you feel Sally?"

Sally smiled back, glad for the company which helped to chase the memories off. "Weird actually. High as a kite but glad there is no pain. But I´m okay or at least I will be." She swallowed and looked at the door. Still no Sherlock. That was weird. But he would come soon, wouldn´t he? She needed to see he was all right after this.

They talked for a while. John and Anthea told the injured Sergeant, that there was always someone at her bedside the last two days waiting for her to wake up. It had been Mycroft mostly but Sherlock had also been there for a few hours at the start and John and Anthea as well. Anderson and Lestrade had looked in, wanting to know how she was and there were gifts from her colleagues at the Yard and Mrs. Hudson´s cookies that she liked so much on the table next to her bed.

John and Anthea assured her that her hand would be all right. Specialists had apparently operated as soon as she had reached the hospital- courtesy of Mycroft´s connections she supposed. It would take some time, lots of physical therapy and maybe one or two more operations but she would get the full movement of her hand back. Sally felt a huge rock drop from her heart as she heard that. Okay, restricted movement of one hand wouldn´t have destroyed her life, but she was glad she didn´t have to face that. There would be a few scars left, sure, but according to Anthea the doctors had tried to take care of these as well.

Sally felt mostly relief when she heard that Moran was really dead. Having to face him in court, that was something she didn´t really want to do at the moment. She still couldn´t believe he had known about Sergej and their childhood traumas.

How could he have known? Mycroft had said he had destroyed all the case files, but still. Maybe someone of his people had talked, Sally guessed.

That, and Moran had deceived the MI6 for a time, so who knew what access to secret files or high clearance information he had secured.

She probably really didn´t want to know, she told herself.

The guy was dead damn it.

It was over.

Forever over. Done.

That left Sherlock. She looked at the door again. Still no Sherlock in sight. Maybe he didn´t want to see her? Or had he just forgotten about her because there was a new case or something similar?

John caught her gaze at the door and shrugged his shoulders. "I have no idea. He was there the whole time when I went to check on you and even went alone one time last night when I was asleep. The nurses were pretty pissed about that one, no visitor hours at night time." He laughed slightly and Sally tried to laugh with him. That was typical Sherlock.

"Maybe he´ll come later." she answered and John nodded although he didn´t seem to be sure either. "Just tell him I need to see for myself that he is okay, will you? He´ll probably roll his eyes and lament about my silly sentiment but I don´t care. I just... I don´t know."

While Anthea patted her arm, John looked at her. "I understand Sally." he said and she saw in his eyes that he really did.

############

Anyone? Feels a bit like I´m posting this into the void to be honest with no comments at all.


End file.
